Silence
by Insanity Allegra
Summary: Boomer goes to visit Bubbles. (Sad, Blues)


Insane: I'm sad today. So have some Blues...

I never will own the Powerpuff Girls.

~! #$%^&*()_+

 _It's too quiet, and you wonder why you came._

 _It's dark, the wind is blowing, and you don't like it. It feels like you're being mocked, but your brothers aren't around, and they know better than to mock you for going to see her. They learned quickly when you lost it, beat them to a pulp in uncontrolled rage._

 _They always said that Butch and Buttercup were the most dangerous. They were wrong. You and her, when properly motivated, outmatch them by a mile._

 _You sit beside her on the dewy grass. It's too quiet. You don't know why you came. You never know. Sometimes one of her sisters comes, too, but you never speak to them. Your eyes, your voice, they're only for her._

 _You are always so confused, now. Shouldn't you hate her? She killed you._

 _Just the thought makes you want to scream. It's not fair. Why does it hurt so much?_

 _You set the daisies in front of her. They're dyed every color you can think of. She loves daises, and she loves all the crazy colors you can make them._

 _You start talking, telling her about your day. You want to, need to break the silence, so you speak of what happened since you were here yesterday. You tell her how Brick and Blossom still fight like they're five instead of almost eighteen, and how Butch stole Buttercup's shoes and hid them in the attic. You ask her questions, how is she doing, what she's been up to. You don't get an answer, but then, you never do._

 _It's far too quiet, and you wonder why you still come, every day. The graveyard is too silent, too drab. She's here, it's too quiet for her to be here. She always filled the air with laughter before, but now there's only silence, oppressive silence that you can't break, not really. It always comes back, the moment you fall quiet. There's nothing you wouldn't give to hear her bubbly laughter once more._

 _She killed you, and you came back. So why is she still trapped beneath the earth? It's not fair._

 _You lean against her gravestone. You never read it. You don't need to. It's etched into your brain, it has been since the first and only time you read it, the day after the funeral. And she would've hated it, you know. It goes on and on about her heroics. She would have wanted it go on and on about her family, her friends._

 _You were neither of those to her, but she still threw herself in front of that misfired Antidote X beam when it rebounded off of one of the metal bits in Mojo's lab and it headed straight for you. It was all your fault._

All your fault.

 _She died in your arms after throwing her life away to save yours. You don't deserve to live. It should've hit you, and you should've been the one to fall. Then she'd still be able to laugh and smile like always._

 _It's too quiet. It's driving you crazy. Why did you come? You're crying again._

 _She was smiling when she died. Looking up at you with those giant blue eyes, smiling. She didn't even try to speak. She just smiled. And it hurt. You told her not to go. That she couldn't die. She had loving sisters and a caring father and a life to live and so much ahead of her and_ why did she throw it all away to save **you** _?! You didn't deserve it! You'd been dead before, you could've handled it. Instead that stupid, stupid little girl had to play the hero one last time..._

 _You're barely aware of the tears pouring from your eyes, of the small, helpless sobs and whimpers passing your lips. You know you're shaking, shivering like you're freezing, but you don't care._

 _It's too damn quiet, and all you are left with is a gravestone that reads '_ Here lies Bubbles Utonium' _as the top line, the never ending silence, a hollow feeling in your chest, and a desperate, yearning wish that you're the one lost to death, and she could've lived a life she'd earned because of it._

 _You cry and cry until your tears run out, and, exhausted, you curl up beside the grave to sleep. You don't want to leave her, not ever, but you know that like every other time you fall asleep beside her, somebody will move you, and you'll awaken in your own room._

A few minutes later, Blossom and Brick arrive. Neither are squabbling like schoolchildren as they usually do, instead, they are respectfully silent. Brick lifts Boomer into his arms, pointedly not looking at Bubbles' grave. Blossom does look, but only long enough to read the tombstone.

Three weeks after her funeral, the writing on the stone had _changed_. Nobody knew why or how, but the old, carved in letters were completely gone, replaced with new as though the entire tombstone had been replaced. But it hadn't.

Where before, it read of her heroic deeds and her accomplishments, now, etched in small letters, it read:

 _Here lies Bubbles Utonium_

 _I am a lover, a fighter, a daughter._

 _A sister, a dreamer, a crier._

 _I'm a laugher, a smiler, a savior._

 _I have a love and my love is alone._

 _He carries my heart but he does not know_

 _I would do what I've done again and again_

 _To save him, to give him a second chance._

 _I'm sorry I left and I miss you all..._

 _Maybe someday you'll hear my call._

Blossom didn't believe in ghosts. Not even after HIM and the magical zombie and the boogeyman – She _couldn't_ believe in ghosts, because to believe would be to admit that her sister was out there, alone, waiting.

But she knew that Bubbles was the one who'd written that, because after the funeral, she'd found a piece of paper with Bubbles' handwriting on her vanity that had the second line to the sixth line written out.

"Coming, Blossy?" Brick asked, hefting his brother.

Blossom nodded, and the two flew off.

 _You watch your sister and his brother fly off with him, and it hurts, like it always does. You try to pick up one of the lovely daisies, a dark blue like his eyes, but you can't get a grip on it. Then again, you never can. But they're nice to look at. They'll serve as an okay distraction until he returns. You sit on your grave and wonder if Boomer ever even read your note. He never looks at it._

 _Why does he come? Why does he come to break the silence that's now your world? You can hear him, he breaks through the pain and the fear and the crushing loneliness when even Blossom and Buttercup are just silent movies, unable to be touched or heard or spoken to._

 _Why does he come every day when the endless quiet hurts him as much as it hurts you?_

 _You can no longer speak or smell or touch or taste. You're bound to your grave, and you can only hear him._

 _You know that he loves you, even if he doesn't understand what love is. And you loved him. But you never got to say it. And he will never know what love really is, not with the way he was raised. It hurts to know that, in the crushing, empty silence, your only consolation is that he doesn't know why he's really crying, that you didn't have a chance to give him your heart only to lose it all._

 _You wonder if he'd be even worse if he knew._

 _It's too late to change anything though, so you lean back against your grave and wait for your love to come and break the silence._


End file.
